The Experiment
by birdie7272
Summary: An experiment between the boys that ends in smut. One-shot. Smut. PWP. Johnlock. Prompt by: shiko1122


Prompt by shiko1122: Some experimenting goes wrong. John gets in the middle of it and things get a bit out of control for the two. top!Sherlock

When you said experiment, my thoughts were first going to something really cool like an actual experiment that like explodes and leads to a sticky situation (haha – literally) but then my brain obviously could not get past the _smutty-smutty-smut-smut _chant that seems to continuously play. I hope you enjoy anyway :)

(I'm trying out 3rd singular POV so forgive me if it's not up to par or if it's a bit one sided...)

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"SHERLOCK!" John screamed as loud as he could, his voice carrying through the entire flat. There was no way Sherlock didn't hear him. That still didn't mean he answered. "I'm just-I-ahhhh-"

It was the final straw.

That week started with Sherlock experimenting on him -while he was sleeping- something that he had apparently been doing for weeks. Then he had taken all the food out of the fridge for a reason John still didn't understand, letting it all melt and stink up the place overnight. That was followed by him taking all the towels they owned to his room, including the one John had been wearing at the time. And then! Then he had decided to bring a _trumpet_ home, blaring it with all the air he had in his lungs at 4am. The violin he didn't mind but the trumpet was something Sherlock Holmes was not good at. Not at all.

So this, finding a dead mouse tucked into his loose tea…nope. No, no, no, no! Last. Straw.

"Sherlock!" John stomped into the living room and found it empty. He glared up the stairs and into the bathroom and still there was nothing. Finally he crashed through Sherlock's bedroom door, planning on giving him a piece of his mind -and the mouse's- but that all came crashing down when he was gob smacked by the sight of his flatmate and friend with all of his clothes off, his hand roaming around the ramrod straight cock bouncing against his waist, and chanting a very familiar name.

"John- J-John- Johnnnnn!" Sherlock jumped up as soon as he realized he had company, covering his erection with his hands and backing into the corner of his room. "I was- I- I was-"

John stared with an open mouth trying to find something to say –moving it a few times without result- but instead promptly turned around and shut the door. It was only a few seconds later that Sherlock came running after him with his housecoat roughly tied around his waist. John was throwing out his tea and searching the cupboards for more when Sherlock's angry –mostly defensive- voice reached him.

"You are very hypocritical. Do you know that?"

"Really?" Well this was going to be entertaining with John's face feeling as if it was on fire and Sherlock still half-undressed. "And how is that?"

"For all the times you yell at me for barging into your room unannounced you seem to have no issue doing it yourself."

"Well if I had known what you were doing I obviously wouldn't have done it!"

"What do you think I was doing?"

"That's not a real question is it?"

"No John, because I know what you think. You think I was giving in to the simplistic and primal practice of masturbation. Well you are wrong! It was an experiment."

"Well whatever you experiment about in your own time is fine. Just lock the door next time. And leave me out of it." John tired to leave the conversation by entering the next room but Sherlock was right on his tail.

"It is a real experiment. One that has been ongoing and you just ruined!"

"Oh good can't wait to hear this one. Go on then. I know you won't stop till I ask. What experiment?"

"It's too complicated for you to understand."

"Try me."

Sherlock just stared him down for a few awkward moments, not saying a thing with his eyes starting to glaze over. John could have sworn he even started to blush but maybe that was just him projecting his own heated cheeks. That stare was getting really intense.

"You know what?" John broke the silence and crossed his arms over his chest. "Make me. Because in order for this to not seem exactly what it seems like and be completely…" Weird. Uncomfortable. Awkward. Embarrassing. Unexpected. He left Sherlock to think of the end of that sentence. "You are just going to have to."

"It was a study in third party stimuli and my ability to focus beyond it."

"Go on."

Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes in that way as if to show this was literally killing what precious seconds he had in his life. "My body, as of late, has been rather…distracting. As have the thoughts that accompany its reactions. I have been trying to find the correct outlet for surpassing it and think at a proper level, without turning to the help of recreational drugs or an excessive amount of patches. Of which we are running low on by the way-"

"And what I walked in on was…?"

"Pain association."

"Ahha and you saying my name was-"

"Simply a distant path for my mind to follow."

"Mhmm." Nope. Still weird. "So what's been distracting you then?"

"I will not discuss it with you."

"Come on Sherlock. I'm a doctor. If something is physically bothering you I should have a look."

"You know full well that I have no injury Doctor. I will not stand here and be taken in by this childish mockery. It is anatomy and my body is simply not listening. All human beings have these urges and I will learn to control mine again."

"You've had to control them before?"

"Go be useful and get us some more patches then. Or real cigarettes. I can't stand these electronic fake nicotine free-"

"Oh I've struck a nerve have I? That must be quite the third party stimuli. What's her name?"

John really didn't know what else to say when Sherlock stomped away so he simply snuck out of the room and slinked down the stairs to get him his patches. That left him with far too much time to think to himself about what he caught Sherlock doing.

Alright, so his hand wasn't actually wrapped around his cock or anything but it was still quite the image. Maybe Sherlock was telling the truth. Maybe it was some kind of weird concentration thing. Who was he to judge? He wasn't a genius.

Why couldn't he just be a normal bloke though? Wack off to the thought of the girl and move on with his life? That's what John had to do, seeing as how he wasn't getting the real thing either. Of course, John was a bit different in his _'third party stimuli'_. It wasn't like he could block it out from his mind or whatever tricks Sherlock was doing. He was a normal human being that was easily distracted.

It did not help that most of his distractions came in the form of his flatmate who he saw 24/7. It also did not help that he just saw that flatemate completely naked with a boner on display. It really also did not help that said flatmate was chanting _his_ name while completely naked with a boner on display. It really, really also did not help that his body was getting its own boner from the recent interaction, already half hard behind his jeans, coming close to being on public display. He knew exactly what path his mind was following that night and lucky for him he wasn't some weirdo who would rather try pain association than giving into the wonders of his hand and imagination. Next best to the real thing and it wasn't like he was going to get that.

When he returned with the patches, Sherlock was glaring at the door from his chair. He tried to toss him the pack but he didn't move and just let it hit his arm instead. John groaned to himself but let him be.

That's when John started to notice things. Maybe it was just because he was curious about Sherlock actually acting normal and getting turned on randomly, causing him to stare at his groin more times than normal. Oh God he hoped Sherlock didn't notice. John noticed though. He noticed a lot of things.

It started when Sherlock was pinching his own arm. John thought it was weird until he looked down at Sherlock's middle and saw the small tent starting to form. He smirked to himself and walked away for a cold shower.

It was after another shower that he saw Sherlock doing it again. John had been in his towel trying to clean up a bit of the living room when Sherlock walked in. He had thought he was alone so it was only moments later when he went to get more clothes but in those few moments he saw Sherlock pinch his leg and he thought it was odd.

Another time Sherlock pinched his leg like that was when John was eating a banana. Sherlock was trying to hide his erection and John's mind started to wonder towards taking care of it for him, his poor banana taking the blunt of his daydream, and that wasn't helping his own dick from straining his jeans. He remembered because he really had to run and took that banana with him all the way to the bathroom...

It was when he saw Sherlock start to shock himself with a tiny taser that he had to ask, "How's your experiment coming?"

"Hmm?"

"With the pain association?"

"Fine." He was very unhappy and clearly not fine.

"Fine?"

"No. Obviously not."

"What?"

"You ruined it."

"How could I have ruined it? I still don't understand that."

"No of course you don't understand. It is an experiment in association! Every time I undress I now associate your face, in my door, gaping at me. Worst still, I am unable to ignore the way your eyes glazed over and you licked your lips. Like you are right now! Do you know what that suggests?" He continued on as John slipped his tongue back in his mouth. "Hunger. The hunger that leads to simplistic and primal acts. What am I to do with that information? Hmm?"

John just stood gaping. So he knew about the hungry gazing then? Of course he did. Of course he knew that John was attracted to him. Of course John was an idiot for thinking he could hide such a thing. Of course he was going to continue to stare with his mouth open in the hopes that something would happen.

"I didn't think so." Sherlock left the room and a dumbstruck flatmate behind.

It was only days later that John stopped being such a complete and utter moron.

John had come down sometime in the middle of the night, completely unable to sleep. He was just in his boxers and didn't think anything of it when he walked into the kitchen for a drink.

Sherlock blended in on the couch with his dark suit on and John only saw him when he sat down in his chair and glanced around. That's when he saw Sherlock pinching his arm again and that's when John pieced it all together. It took him far, far too long. He deserved to be called an idiot.

Sherlock only ever pinched or shocked himself when John was in the room…that he knew of. He never caught him doing it at least. Well, he was more aware of knocking before entering since walking in on him 'experimenting'. Still, it was only when John's thoughts turned dirty or he had a severe lack of clothes that he would see Sherlock trying out his 'pain association'. How had he not noticed it before? Of course, there was a very high chance that he was wrong…so he would have some fun finding out. It was time to join Sherlock in his experiment…and ruin it for good.

John tried to act normal but he was now hyper aware every time he glanced at Sherlock or Sherlock looked at him. Over dinner Sherlock decided to just stare. Stare and stare and stare. That's when John decided to start. He looked up and met Sherlock's intense eyes. Usually he would be the one to break their little staring contests but not this time. This time he lazily held his gaze and started to let his mind wonder to its imaginative side.

Sherlock was staring at him like this, just over top of him. He was only inches away. The cold color of his eyes could do nothing to stop the heat coming out of their bodies, intertwined and wrapped up in each other. With just a lick of the lips Sherlock was falling on top of him and putting that cupid's bow lip of his to good work as his hips snapped back and made John scream out his name instead of the other way around.

With a lick of the lips John watched as Sherlock was first to break contact and stare at his mouth –parted slightly, just enough to show the tip of his tongue. He wanted to smile as he saw Sherlock shift in his chair but instead slowly rolled his lips together, pouted them out, and swallowed in a way that made his adam's apple bob. Sure enough, Sherlock followed with his eyes and shifted in his chair again.

John let his eyes drop and took a gander at Sherlock's lower half. He allowed a small smile to pull at the corner of his mouth when he saw the small outline of his flatmate's cock just starting to press up against the fabric of his dress pants. It was only seconds later that Sherlock jumped up and yelled something about chocolate sauce before running from the room and leaving John to eat the rest of his dinner. The good doctor was very satisfied with his results and also slightly tense from the effect it caused his body.

He couldn't help wondering why Sherlock was thinking of chocolate sauce. What did he want with it? Surely he knew what John was thinking. Maybe "Sherlock-the-Virgin" had a little kink in him? Maybe John wouldn't mind. Maybe he liked the idea of Sherlock pouring chocolate sauce over his dick, slow and precise, only to lick it up with that devilish tongue of his. Maybe he could use it to draw on Sherlock's chest and slide his newly clean co-…maybe John needed another cold shower.

The next day John decided to wear a button up. It wasn't his usual and he was a bit chilly but it paid off. He was watching Sherlock look through his microscope when he started to undo the top button. After a few moments he moved to the next and the next and the one after that and by button four Sherlock was no longer looking through the eyepiece. He was just staring at the table and curling his fists around his instrument. Too bad it wasn't the instrument John wanted it to be.

He continued to pop buttons down until the entire thing flew open and his chilly nipples were standing at full attention, out on display for anyone to see. Sherlock subtly slid his hand off the table but it wasn't so subtle to John when he started rubbing it against his thigh. It seemed to be very hard for him as he pinched his leg and went back to staring into the microscope.

A few hours of half-naked roaming around later and Sherlock wondered if John had seen his taser. John of course had hidden it away in the flat but still answered no, waiting until the poor sexually frustrated genius turned away to slip out his awfully gleeful smile. He rather felt like quite the mad genius himself for this little plan of his. But, of course, he wasn't the genius and the actual genius would figure him out. It was when he had decided to play the loose towel game that Sherlock decided to say something.

John was on the couch, sprawled out after a hot shower with the towel just covering what mattered when Sherlock walked into the room. "Really John?"

"Hmmm?" John asked looking up from the TV and smiling at the unhappy and flustered expression on Sherlock's face. The way his jaw was twitching had John's stomach flipping and toes curling into the side of the couch so nothing on his own body would twitch too.

"Very well." Sherlock said without explanation before leaving the room. John got his explanation soon enough because that's when the 'experiment' really started.

The next day Sherlock decided not to walk around fully clothed, forgoing the shirt and only jumping about in his trousers. Needless to say, it made John's mouth run dry as every move accentuated a new part of his flatmate's exposed chest. Sherlock just smiled when John was caught staring.

The next night John was trying to tease Sherlock with moans he made. Mrs. Hudson brought up some amazing brownies and he was not one to let the opportunity go to waste. He made sure Sherlock heard just how much he enjoyed them. "Oh my god! Oh my god, Sherlock. Sherlock. You have to eat this. Oh god. The chocolate alone- mmmmmm. Look at me, licking my fingers off. It's just so good. I would lick it off _anything_. Mmmm-mmmm." John made sure to bob his head with his fingers in his mouth a few times as he moaned. His eyes were closed so he didn't know if Sherlock paid much attention or not but when he opened them he was gone.

Sherlock started touching after that, running his hand over John's arm or putting his fingers just a touch too far towards the inside of his thigh. John could only retaliate by doing the same, his fingers winding through his flatemate's hair more than once –giving small pulls as a way of reminding him that the point of his long forgotten experiment was pain association.

Next came the mysterious bottle of lube. John wasn't sure where it came from but it was following him everywhere. He would turn around to make tea or change or to grab the soap and there it would be. An extra large bottle of lubricant staring him in the face. It wasn't the same bottle either. No, there were different kinds with every look. Tingling, heating, cooling, anal, yours & mine, liquid, jelly….why were there so many?

That's when more layers were stripped off. John walked around in only his trousers which caused Sherlock to strip to boxers which caused him to strip to boxers which caused Sherlock to strip to nothing –and what a day that was!- which caused John to strip to nothing.

In a matter of days they had switched to the nudist lifestyle with absolutely no way for either of them to hide their reactions to the other. That would be about the time the experiment failed. Completely and absolutely failed.

They kept up the usual teasing, easier now with the lack of clothes, but Sherlock was the one who broke the boundary first. He essentially had John pinned when he walked up behind him as he was unconcernedly washing dishes. He wasn't on guard or anything. He didn't know he was supposed to be! So, he jumped when he felt a thick, warm rod press straight up against his lower back, settling in the exact center between his cheeks. Both of them had been hard at least half the time being around each other but it was one thing to know or see it and an entirely new thing to feel it. If he wasn't before it didn't matter because he was now! Hard in an instant. Violently. So much so that his member pushed him away from the counter as it pressed against the wood. He felt the body behind his shift as lanky arms skated around him and found the edge of the sink, trapping him inside. The slippery mug in his hands quickly dropped back into the water with a plunk as his fingers tripped over themselves in an attempt to grab at any self-control he had left.

All that measly self-control went straight to hell when Sherlock's stubbly jaw scratched against the apple of his cheek and he felt the hot breath of the man behind him gently fall over the edge of his nose. The small space between Sherlock's hands was quickly taken up by John's as he gripped the sink, painfully waiting for his tosser of a flatmate to move away so he could free his trapped member from the edge. Seriously, it was really starting to bother him with its continuous _almost_ pressure sending shock waves of temptation through him. Those shock waves only had him pressing back against the man trapping him, making him feel the firm cock rub against the bones in his back. Oh, this was not fair!

Sherlock's jaw rolled over his overly-heated cheek as he whispered –yes whispered- right next to the corner of his mouth. "It's right there."

Damn that world's only skinny bastard that could make John come with only the sound of his goddamn lower than should be humanly allowed rough and innocently seductive voice. Well he _probably_ could make John come like that. And who was he kidding? He wasn't innocent at all!

"W-what?" John audibly swallowed and cursed himself for sounding so pathetic and nervous. What was right there? Because if he was talking about his dick being pressed up against his back, John knew! He knew it was there!

"Two-o-clock." Sherlock spoke against him again, moving when John did to look in the direction he spoke. That only led to his front molding against John's back, the heat now pressing over every inch of the rear half of his body. "Behind the toaster. I'm surprised you didn't find it earlier."

There was the day's K-Y poking out behind the place John made his breakfast. Well what was he supposed to do with that? Other than reach out, take it, and make Sherlock do something with it. Which is exactly what he did.

He quickly stretched out and turned with the large bottle resting in his hand, almost regretting the move as it caused his newly released and sensitive erection to bump directly into Sherlock's, shocking him into a small squeak. There was a trivial instant when his juvenile and horny side -slowly taking over- started giggling and saying '_you're sword fighting Sherlock in the kitchen!_'. John knocked that part of him down for a second so he could hold up the bottle and give Sherlock a good scolding gaze.

"Did you lose this?" He asked in his most serious voice, ignoring how it was a bit higher than usual and how ridiculous he must have looked with his face two shades away from a tomato. Oh and his dick was still pressed up against Sherlock's so that wasn't distracting at all. "I thought you weren't giving into the primal urges of masturbation?"

"They're for you." John's lips twitched at the smirk on Sherlock's face and he could actually feel his eyes rounding out with hope when Sherlock took the tiniest of steps closer, pushing him back against the counter and pushing their stiffs together in the smallest of teases. "I've noticed you've been rather unsatisfied as of late. I thought you could use it for your own personal activities."

"So you'll pick up your flatmate lube but you won't get him milk?"

"There is a greater need."

"Is there?" John jumped and the lube almost slipped from his grip as Sherlock's long hand wrapped quick around his member and gave it a speedy yank that had him literally bugging his eyes out, his breath catching, as he rocked to his toes and the pleasure flew through his system.

"I do believe there is."

The best part was that Sherlock didn't let go. He just kept his hand lazily covering the middle of his shaft, refusing to move or look away from John who was trying really, really, really hard to look back at him but goddamn it! His cock was twitching on its own, trying to move inside the soft palm closed around it. Every small wiggle had his toes jumping again and his blood rushing to the surface and the worst thing about it was that Sherlock knew. There was absolutely nothing to keep Sherlock from deducing every little reaction his body had and there was nothing to do but stand there and gape like some kind of weird horny fish.

"Do you give up yet?" Sherlock chuckled and moved his hand quick, causing another jolt in John's body.

"Is that what this was?" John was pretty proud of how neutral he made his voice sound, if not a bit frustrated. "A game of chicken? You were- " Sherlock continued to move his hand in tiny teasing strokes causing John to stumble over the words in his head, blocking them from coming out right. Like he was pumping a fog machine and they just couldn't see their way to coherency. "Were- oh god- you- you- the experi- you- said- and- mmmm- but- Sherl- Sher- you-"

"Should I take that answer as a yes?"

John made the mistake of looking up as that husky voice reached his ears. Sherlock looked just as flustered as he did with his hair all tossed around and sticking to the small sheen of sweat on his forehead. Holy hell he was even biting his lip. His goddamn lip!

John was already breathing too fast, was already too lost, and couldn't even think about the power play Sherlock was trying at. For the love of it all, he could have it! _This_ was the very last straw! "God- yes- just- you win- I concede- whatever- just stop teasing or- just- oh fuck it."

There weren't any clothes for John to pull Sherlock forward so he grabbed him by the back of his head and pulled him down, rubbing his wet hands all over him, missing the tiny smile Sherlock had right before their lips touched together. Well the lube was on the floor now because John was too busy running a hand into dark curly locks while the other gripped tight around the taller man's shoulders, sinking into the dips of his blades. John wasn't really sure what he was expecting but was wonderfully surprised when he felt Sherlock's arms grip him tighter than necessary and pull their bodies together completely.

The teasing touches were one thing but this was something new altogether. Sensations were running through him faster than their lips were mashing together. Instead of calculated, meaningful, exact movements -as John expected- Sherlock was quite the opposite. He was all messy, fast, and hungry. From their lips came pulling, popping, sucking, biting, moaning, panting, and John even groaned when he felt his mouth invaded by the talented tongue of his companion. It did not spoil the fantasy about what better things Sherlock's mouth could be used for.

Instead of simple, accidental, or playful brushes, this was an entire embrace filled with enticing grabs, scrapes and pulls that had both their bodies thrumming with needy energy. While he had his hand curling into Sherlock's hair, pulling in an attempt to push him even more, the other was scraping for some kind of hold as his fingers slid over the bones of his back, curling around his arm in an attempt to bring their melded bodies further together. That pull on Sherlock's arm caused him to grip John even tighter, his long arms to the point of reaching his body back again with the extra pull. But John just wanted more as the air fled from the space between them and he felt the longs arms press bruises between his ribs.

John scraped his nails down the line of Sherlock's slender bicep and pulled his elbow closer, earning him the first big adrenaline thrill that rushed through his body as Sherlock dropped his hands and scrapped his own nails down, over the spot his cock had been pressing up against before. He kept dipping and sending small tremors down John's legs, all the way down until he had pulled John from the counter and sent a hand directly over the lump of his ass, squeezing and pulling their hips the rest of the way together. Another moan escaped John as he felt his entire body clench at the action.

Sherlock had him in that grip and he was stumbling to keep up, the room spinning with him, as he was twisted on the spot and pressed up with a thump against their fridge, the cool air stinging his back and the handle pressing into his side. All thoughts of that discomfort were forgotten as Sherlock's hands moved down his side and the push of his hips sent a wave of heat over everything. The roll of his body into John's had him scraping up against the door, the tiny notes Sherlock made for himself peeling off along with the small magnet John didn't really know the use for. As it fell, Sherlock rolled into him again and John cried out as the heat pressed up his cock and pushed the eagerness through to his own hips which started pressing back in earnest, his feet lifting from the ground to meet every upward shove.

Pulling his hands free from Sherlock's hair and arms, he tucked them under Sherlock's and grabbed him by the waist as well, prompting another thrust to come from the other body. With a slow pull Sherlock rounded his hips down, drawing the length of his erection against John's, stepping back just enough so a whine would escape John's throat from the immediate lack of contact. With some aiming and another slow push, Sherlock managed to rub their heads together, pull his entire shaft over the extra-sensitive spot just underneath the tip of his cock, and slide them down together, until he had him trapped between the heat of their two bodies again.

John's head hit the fridge as the long move pulled at him from the inside, straight down his stomach and right into his toes with a strain he was all too familiar with. Sherlock's mouth popped free from his as John gasped and instead moved back over his cheek, up his jaw, and directly to his ear. "Predictable." Sherlock did it again with a growl, this time biting the small lobe and causing the air escaping him to fill up John's ear and block out any other sounds, including John's own audible puffs.

Sherlock slowly pulled out again, his sharp tooth pulling and causing an enticing pain-caused adrenaline spike to rush through John's system, all while he panted in John's ear. John whined again with the move, not only because it was setting his entire system on fire, but because he could hear the desperation in the tiny keening sound that spill out at the end of Sherlock's sign. He thought of every move Sherlock had made since they started their little experiment, every stare, every time he turned him on, every touch and every sub textual undertone with every flirtatious sentence and move. His genius had been playing with him from the start and John had been putty in his hands. Just like he was pressed up against that fridge with his hips gyrating and his mind losing focus to the sweet musk filling the air and the feel of having this elegant body pressed against him. This beat his imagination and right hand by a long shot.

It was when Sherlock tried to do the slow tantalizing pull for a forth time that John pushed him away, his hands coming into direct contact with his tiny stomach and shoving him directly into the chair behind. Sherlock only seemed a bit dazed before John was coming at him again. Nonetheless, Sherlock wasn't having John's attempt at control.

The instant John made contact with his mouth again was the instant Sherlock spun him around and charged him back into the doorframe. John stumbled again, reaching back for something to break his fall, until his hands collided with the corners of the small wall space and he was clinging on as Sherlock attacked again. A small thrill rippled through him with the way Sherlock took what he wanted and John knew he was never going to stop him.

First, the attack was just with his mouth but then John felt hands everywhere. Every inch of him was being inspected by Sherlock's digits as they skipped down his front and sides, flicking over his nipples, dipping over his hip bones, squeezing his thighs, and pinching the muscle in his arms. The moment he though he knew where the hand was, the heat would trail to a new place only his aggressor knew about. And he knew a lot because he had somehow managed to find every single spot on John's body that had him tipping over the edge with nothing but a caress.

Suddenly it all seemed to stop and John had to open his eyes to make sure it was all real in the first place, and not some fantastic dream he was waking from, when he saw Sherlock glaring down at him, eyes blown black and lips pink and bruised in the perfect picture of simplistic, primal urges taking over a human's body. John was about to ask what was wrong when a hand slapped over his mouth, making him have to pant the question through his nose instead of verbally.

"Predictable, yet desirable."

As if being called desirable by in that thick sensual tone by his constant distraction of a flatmate was not enough to turn his insides soft, a moment later his legs turned to jello as Sherlock's fingers appeared on his knee and tickled him with just the tips of his digits. A small rush of breath escaped him from the absurdity of the tiny sensation when it started to crawl up. Those provocative fingers were slowly trailing along his inner thigh, tickling the hairs on his legs, up and up and up until they traced the most sensitive of skin. John could feel the anticipation rising within him as the tension in his body pulled him towards the sensation, his hips rocking forwards and his lips rolling behind the hand on his face as he scaled the wall behind him.

"Oh dear Doctor Watson, what to do with you?"

Those fingers didn't do what he wanted them to. Instead, Sherlock just had to let him know who was in charge and continue to treat him like the putty he was as they trailed up the joint of his hip, over the center of his stomach, and back down –following the trail of hair from his belly button right down to the base of his cock. It didn't stop as the barely-there touch trickled up his shaft and danced around the ring of his head, only just pressing down with enough pressure for John to feel. John kept begging with his eyes, though Sherlock was too focused on his fingers to notice.

With the lightest brush, Sherlock slipped a finger over the dribble of precum forming at the tip and trailed it back down the head, down the shaft, right before suddenly taking the entirety of John over again. His hand pulled sharp, hard, and fast –sending John straight from the wall with a muffled shout as his hands gripped painfully at the corners and his body arched as far as it possibly could go. He actually saw some stars as the blood pulled too fast from his head and pushed straight back to his middle. Sherlock didn't allow him a second to breathe, and he was fine with that, as he jumped straight back onto John's mouth and pushed him harshly back into the wall, a sharp pain pulsing from his shoulder.

John could not care less if he was going to have a full body bruise back there. He just wanted Sherlock back there already! "Sherlock-" He called out to him through the small break of heads changing direction. His hands darted out, grabbed Sherlock by the wrists and pulled him closer, sighing when their bodies came into full contact again.

Sherlock leaned into him and apparently understood what John wanted but still wasn't going to give it to him as a small chuckle vibrated against John's mouth, then his chin, then his neck as Sherlock bit down and started to suck a bruise to the surface. John gasped and wanted to say more but with every lap of the tongue against his flesh and every pull of the teeth he found the words floating farther and farther away. He simply accepted that he was trapped by this mad man –quite literally as Sherlock had his arms wrapped around him while clinging to the wall- and rounded his hands over the lanky body, pushing his heels up to get the small jolts of pleasure from their hips locking together.

In the dip above his hipbone, he could feel Sherlock's erection pushing into the soft parts of his stomach and in turn –as he rolled his body up in a suggestive wave- he could feel Sherlock's stomach encasing his erection. It swallowed him up and though he wished for that adept hand to wrap tight around him again, he was pleased with the amount of desire building from the tension as he pushed up harder and faster into that soft heat. Every move had his entire body shaking and pulling with it as it started to grow, just a tiny tingle in his toes building up to the point where his thighs were burning with the anticipation. That's when Sherlock just had to pull his entire body away to carefully inspect the mark made on his neck, leaving behind an extremely frustrating gap of cooler air.

Sherlock dove to the ground a second later and John had seriously tempting images of chocolate sauce but instead of a bottle of that, he popped back up with that giant bottle of lube. He had apparently kicked it over or something but John didn't really care how it got there because he was too busy watching Sherlock popping the cap and tipping a generous amount onto his fingers, putting the bottle back on the floor, and moving too fast for his lack-of-blood-and-oxygen mind to follow. All he knew was there was Sherlock, back on him, pressing their chests together and using his free hand to map out John's totality. Everything started to tip like the world was turning on its side and it all seemed somewhat normal until John realized he was actually falling – a completely new adrenaline rush peaking in the continuous one.

Sherlock had somehow managed to flip him sideways and lower him down without having him bump into anything or using his lubed up hand. John was soon put at ease with another kiss as he felt shifting around on top of him and a cool finger was suddenly placed at the sensitive skin of his closed up entrance. He nodded without caring to be asked as his hands wondered up Sherlock's body and into his hair, pulling the locks between the spaces in his fingers and wrapping a curl around his pointer. He may have pulled a bit hard when Sherlock's finger jutted inside his body and pushed open the small muscle ring sending an immediate uncomfortable warning to his brain.

To take his mind off what was about to happen he raked a hand out of Sherlock's hair, having to pull a bit after getting stuck, and slid it over his front, down his chest, down his stomach, and further down the erection bouncing against his side. While keeping his eyes closed and his mouth on Sherlock's, he gripped the other man's lengthy member with his hand and kneaded the flesh between his fingers before wrapping him completely and pulling that need he felt to the forefront of his partner's mind.

Sherlock gave a low groan that bounced in the small space between them as he continued to shift his finger inside of John, moving the long digit up and around searching for the place both men knew would having him groaning too. John could groan from the feeling of his calloused hands pulling at the extra soft burning flesh of Sherlock's most sensitive area alone. It was just so satisfying. To finally touch the thing he had told himself not to touch for so long. He pulled slow from the base matching the speed Sherlock had set with his finger, pulled up and up with his thumb and pointer creating an extra tight ring, pulling harder until he popped over his head and slid his palm back down, smearing the precum with him and pulling another groan from the younger man. Only one excruciatingly long stroke later and John gave that sought after groan as a short burst of pleasure curled from inside and caused him to actually bite down on Sherlock's cupid's bow.

The speed picked up from there as Sherlock added a second lubed finger. The pain was there but it dulled when Sherlock curled his fingers again and aimed with well precision at that spot again and again, causing John to jerk his hand as he jerked him off. It wasn't long before the anticipation swirling between them, their bodies rocking around each other purely on their own accord, and the hot breath mingling in the shared space pushed for them to move even faster.

The passion was building to extreme as Sherlock added a third finger and John felt more stretched than he could ever remember. His body kept trying to reject the sensation, and it was so frustratingly hard to relax, but another pull of Sherlock's teeth on the side of his neck had him focusing back on the mission as he started to pull Sherlock's forgotten member again. If he was squeezing too tightly due to the pain he was trying to ignore, Sherlock didn't say a thing. He seemed to rather enjoy it actually with the way his teeth rolled his skin around and brought about more small, enjoyably tender adrenaline rushes.

When John was pushing back on the fingers, hoping for another curling pleasure to escape from the touch, Sherlock pulled them away. John's body instinctively followed and his hand dropped from Sherlock's cock as his clenched eyes opened and he saw the completely wrecked and ready face of the one and only above him. John tried to blink through the haze as a tongue darted over his lip and Sherlock's eyes found the move. When their gaze caught again John could feel his heart pound in one painfully obvious jump that had his mouth opening in surprise. He could feel the butterflies in his stomach -which seemed like really odd timing to him because they were far past that point already- but apparently his body didn't care. The lust in the air tripled with their undefended gaze as Sherlock hummed to him and dipped down for a chaste kiss before flipping around for that lube again.

John flipped around too and reached for his chair. They were on the ground so the best he could hope for was his Union Jack pillow to support his back. It wasn't much but he wasn't waiting any longer, not even for the ten steps it would take to get to Sherlock's room. They would be together in the way he always dreamed because this wasn't a dream. This was real and nothing thrilled him more than the happiness that knowledge brought him.

Sherlock was back with his hand rubbing down the length of his erection with the glistening jelly, a hungry gaze darting over every inch of John's exposed body. It was funny that he felt so helpless under the look when they had been walking around each other naked for days. Then again, he hadn't been so on display before either. With his entrance prepped, propped up on that pillow, pink and open, ready for the cock being rubbed down with K-Y. All vulnerable thoughts were kicked to the curb when Sherlock bent over him, putting his hands on either side of his shoulders and looked to make sure he was ready.

When their eyes locked John nodded and felt Sherlock's round head press up against him. Even with the prep he still felt the unwanted sensation sweep through him at the pressure that kept pushing in further and further. His hands wrapped around Sherlock's side, biting nails into pink flesh as he pushed in more and more. With eyes closed he willed himself to breathe, moved his legs further out and up, and with a scrunched face he nodded, growling "Do it."

"John, relax." Sherlock mumbled softly against his forehead, dropping a small kiss near his temple. Sherlock moved then, helping John with his bad leg with one hand as he kept himself upright with the other.

It was hard to feel that hand under his knee as the rest of his body was screaming. At first it was from that obvious amount of pain that shot through him with unwanted electricity but then Sherlock found that spot that sent his nerves into overdrive and shockwaves of relaxing pulses were throbbing instead.

It was after the first moan came rumbling from John's throat that Sherlock really started to pick up the pace. His body pushed deeper inside and pressed his soft body against John's stomach, brushing his sensitive skin against John's responsive chest as his elbow dropped to the floor. John held him tight still and found his back arching into the small brushes against the sensitive spots on his chest, wanting to push up higher so his untouched cock could get something more than a simple graze.

With a forehead on John's, Sherlock was panting as hard as John was, their mouths open to each other without actually touching. Their moans filled each other up, as Sherlock became more vocal, a few gasps and a few "John" s escaping him. With every mention of his name in that completely wrecked voice John could feel his toes curling and the need build higher in his abdomen as they moved together on the floor.

When Sherlock snapped extra hard into the constricting channel and hit that pleasure spot again John gave something between a breathless growl and a whimper and that was it for Sherlock. He dropped John's leg and headed straight for John's cock stuck between them, wrapping around it and wasting no time with teasing, much to John's satisfaction. His hand was so big and his fingers were so adept, he barely needed to move it to have John crying out. Of course he was moving it quite fast, the pace at which his body was pushing John from the inside, snapping back and forth as John held on and pushed up into him, the pillow slipping out from under him without care as his body rocked against the hard wood below.

That ache in his back and the annoying bit of chair his head kept bobbing against was nothing to him as he felt his partner dive into him over and over with uncontrollable want. Nothing could distract him from the vibrations taking over his everything. Sherlock was building him higher and higher and he could feel the climb overtaking him as they came together again and again in perfect symmetry.

With furious speed, Sherlock rounded his hand over John's head and snapped against the place within him, simultaneously bringing about too much pleasure for his body to handle. The tension had built to breaking point and his body released it all, sending an overwhelming sensation overboard to crash into every extremity he had, reaching every single inch of his body with the sweet release he had been unconsciously searching for. With the hormones flushing his system he couldn't be sure if he screamed Sherlock's name but his throat felt sore anyway.

"J-John-" Sherlock cried out moments later as his orgasm washed him out completely, making him fall the rest of the way onto the soldier's body in blissful defeat. They lay there for a while, just enjoying the feel and weight of each other before the endorphins started to wear off and the pain started to settle in. John could feel it in his back, his neck, his elbows, his legs, his ass -all from bouncing around furniture, walls, hardwood floors, and the obvious. He was sure Sherlock was feeling it in his knees and arms. Not quite a fair trade when he thought about it but then he realized he just got shagged by Mr. Sherlock Holmes and he didn't seem to care as much.

They both stayed on the ground as Sherlock pulled out and John threw the pillow to the couch, missing by a long shot. They just breathed in the fresh air next to each other, letting the room cool down their sweaty bodies and letting the calm enter their minds. They were both still touching, their sides lined up against each other, both content and happy to relax without pulling into each other quite yet on the hard ground.

With eyes closed and hands folded over his chest John smiled and asked, "So did your experiment fail?"

"Obviously." Sherlock answered gruffly with a satisfied sign added on.

"Too bad. Mine worked out fairly well." John chuckled to the ceiling and finally looked over at Sherlock who was glaring daggers at him, but that just made him laugh harder. Soon he couldn't stop chuckling as giggle after giggle left his body and Sherlock started to smile as well. Shortly after, the laugh caught on and they were both giggling like children, trying to catch their breath and failing completely before falling into each others' arms and agreeing that these kinds of experiments would be welcomed gratefully. In a day or two when John could sit again.

After all, what else would they do with that much lube?


End file.
